


Useless

by vega_voices



Series: Imzadi [11]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Gen, Imzadi, Skin of Evil, justice for tasha yar, so of course i do this stupid episode?, this is my 200th AO3 posting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: “We were friends at the academy,” Deanna said when he took a seat on the grass next to her. “We were on the same floor in the dorms and she was one of the few people that didn’t care that I was Betazoid.” She glanced over at him. “Telepaths and empaths make people nervous and we all tend to band together when surrounded by you non-telepaths.” There was no accusation in her tone, just facts, and he remembered her telling him about her experiences at the Academy when they were back on Betazed. Humans can be so frustrating, she’d ranted. He hadn’t been able to disagree.
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Series: Imzadi [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1404169
Comments: 21
Kudos: 32





	Useless

**Title:** Useless  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Star Trek: The Next Generation  
**Series:** Imzadi  
**Pairing:** Deanna Troi/Will Riker (hints at)  
**Rating:** Gen  
**Timeframe:** Skin of Evil  
**A/N:** Justice for Tasha Yar  
**Disclaimer:** You know who owns what. I’m just taking them out for a spin. 

**Summary:** _Slowly, carefully, he stretched out next to her and reached for her hand. She took it, meeting his eyes, and he sat with her, as they had so often in the past, just experiencing each other’s space. He allowed her the grief she needed and she, in turn, allowed him his anger at feeling useless in the situation._

It had been three days since the funeral, and while Deanna wasn’t required to be on the bridge unless they were in a contact situation, her absence was felt by the crew. It was his job as First Officer to seek her out, to make sure everything was if not good, at least okay. But, he didn’t want to go as her commanding officer. So, off duty, Will went exploring - which wasn’t all that difficult on a ship where their every movements were monitored by the computer. Still, he hadn’t expected to find her on her back under the tree where they’d held Tasha’s ceremony. She was staring past the branches, up at the perfectly fake blue of the holographic sky. Deanna was on her back, still in her gray uniform jumpsuit but her hair was loose from its braids and the band she used to hold it all together next to her on the grass. It didn’t make any sense to mask his approach - the holodeck doors were hardly discreet and he knew she could feel his presence anywhere on the ship, but still, he came to her slowly. 

“We were friends at the academy,” Deanna said when he took a seat on the grass next to her. “We were on the same floor in the dorms and she was one of the few people that didn’t care that I was Betazoid.” She glanced over at him. “Telepaths and empaths make people nervous and we all tend to band together when surrounded by you non-telepaths.” There was no accusation in her tone, just facts, and he remembered her telling him about her experiences at the Academy when they were back on Betazed. Humans can be so frustrating, she’d ranted. He hadn’t been able to disagree. 

“But Tasha didn’t care. In fact, she told me once she really liked that I could read her emotions because it made life easier for her. She didn’t have to hide anything. So she could be angry or frustrated and there wasn’t any mask in place.” Deanna sighed. “We got each other through those years. When we found out we were both assigned here, we cried. Just the chance to serve together …” Deanna wiped her eyes. “And now she’s gone. She escaped that treacherous colony only to die needlessly … just because an angry beast wanted to prove his damn point.” 

“I vaguely remember once, you telling me that as long as we can remember those who went before, their deaths are never needless.”

“If I ever say anything like that again, space me.” Her tone was sharp, but he could hear the touch of humor behind the words. “Gods, I …” she shuddered. “I can still feel her dying, Will.” 

Slowly, carefully, he stretched out next to her and reached for her hand. She took it, meeting his eyes, and he sat with her, as they had so often in the past, just experiencing each other’s space. He allowed her the grief she needed and she, in turn, allowed him his anger at feeling useless in the situation. The guilt of allowing Tasha to die, even though he’d had no control over the situation, would never truly leave him. He’d lost officers over the years, lost friends to the nature of what it all was to serve on ships out in the vastness of space. But this was heavy, and hard on his soul. So, they sat, in silence. She turned her eyes back to the sky and Will watched her. It was easier, for a while, than talking. 

“When I joined Starfleet, I had an argument with my mother,” Deanna finally said, breaking the silence. She sat up, pulling her hair over her shoulder, and for a moment they were young again, relaxing on the grounds at the University on Betazed. “She was so angry that I was following my father into the Fleet and she couldn’t understand why I was so willing to put myself in a situation where I’d lose those close to me. And I was young and silly and had no idea what she really meant by that. And then, there were the border skirmishes with the Cardassians and I felt my friends die …”

“That’s when you went home to Betazed,” Will said, understanding her choices all too well. He’d been willing to stay there not just for her, but because the peace was so tempting. No one was dying on Betazed. 

“Finishing that degree seemed like such a good excuse, and it gave me the time to heal. To feel in control.” 

She fell silent and the artificial nature of the holographic park was suddenly claustrophobic. Why was this such a standard option for memorial services? Oh, they’d honored Tasha properly, with the crew standing to attention and the bridge viewscreen tuned to the image of the torpedo tube as Worf fired Tasha’s body off into oblivion. What happened to those they left at sea? How did their bodies find rest? How did those left behind, who had been unable to save them, carry on? 

“It’s harder because her death was meaningless, Deanna. That’s why it hurts so much.”

“I thought I was the psychologist here,” she said with a gentle smile. “But, you’re actually … you’re wrong, Will. Her death did have a purpose.” He frowned at her, ready to argue, curious as to why she was contradicting herself from just a few moments before. But she shook her head. “And that’s why I’m sitting here, staring off into nothingness. Her death isn’t meaningless to us. We love her and miss her and our hearts hurt. But more than that … to Armus, it did have meaning. It was a death of power and expectation. A death of control.”

Exhaling slowly, Will looked to the sky and could swear he saw the hologrid lines beyond the clouds. “You’ve got a really good point, oh one of us with the degree.”

“It’s one of the reasons I’m hiding out here, trying to just put it all back together. Reconciling that which feels senseless to me, makes perfect sense to another is something I’ve always wrestled with. It’s one of the weaknesses in my counseling strategy.” She met his eyes. “I’m not naive enough to believe the myths about my people. We aren’t passificts, Will, and we hardly eschew violence. When you hold the power of the mind, of reading thoughts and emotions, the temptation to work against the greater good is too easy to embrace. But, also, when you come from a people who can feel the emotions and thoughts of those around you, you tend to not want to fuel violence and pain.” Deanna was silent for a long time, but she didn’t look away. Will felt their connection race up his spine. His brain tingled. “So, I’m sitting here, staring up into nothingness, trying to accept that there is a part of me that wants to find a way to destroy Armus. Because for me, then, Tasha’s death would be more than something for me to mourn.”

“Ahhh,” Will said, kissing her fingers tenderly, “that could also be your human side showing.” 

That made her laugh and Will reveled in the moment. “Good point,” she conceded. 

“Tasha wouldn’t want you angry like this, Deanna,” Will said. “I know it’s normal to feel it, but she’d want you to find peace.” 

“I know.” She wiped her eyes again. “It will just take a while.” 

“For both of us.” Will looked around and rose to his feet. “Come on.”

She cast him a side glance and he felt the sharp emotion of the question before she spoke. “What? Where are we going?”

“Ten forward. We need a real meal and you deserve a drink and possibly a brownie.” 

“Are you just bribing me with chocolate?”

He only smirked and Deanna stared at him for a long time before standing up, relinking their fingers, and following him out of the holodeck. They walked in silence, and he found he didn’t care if the crew saw them like this, if people gossiped about their relationship. He’d felt her scream of terror when he’d been engulfed by Armus, a terror he shared whenever Armus had enveloped the shuttle. That creature would have kept her there, taunting her, until she died. If it made him a terrible man to accept that he was just a tiny bit relieved that if any of them had to die, it wasn’t Deanna, then he accepted it, because inside the turbolift, she wrapped her arms around him and clung to him and he allowed himself the gentle comfort of doing the same. Could she tell just how much he still loved her? 

By the time they reached Ten Forward, their hands were no longer linked, and Deanna went to a corner table, near the window and away from the eyes of their crewmates. Will ordered - a plate of Betazed Hummus and veggies, two glasses of sangria, and of course, a brownie for her - and made his way over, drinks in hand. She took the sangria and sipped, but her eyes were on the stars around them. Every ounce of energy he could feel pouring from her told him to sit there and shut up and let her be sad and frustrated and angry. She didn’t want to talk it out, not any more. She wanted to simmer. She wanted to scream. Instead, she sipped her sangria. 

It was hard, not breaking the silence. He was a fixer, he commanded the mood and the attention of those around him. He was both morale officer and the voice of the captain. He needed this counselor and diplomatic officer to be on her game. To be ready for anything. Instinct and years of Starfleet training told him, despite everything she’d taught him over the years, to speak. He had to make sure she was fit and ready to go. But he knew if he spoke, she would leave, and he did need her on the bridge. He needed her ready to go. He needed her capable of counseling those who needed to process Tasha’s death. So, he sat. When the food arrived, he picked at the vegetables and watched Deanna allow herself the energy to eat, but still, only, in silence. 

The longer they sat, the more the emotions flooded him. The fear of almost losing her, the rage at being able to control what happened to Tasha, the guilt relief of survival. He ate and drank and said nothing but thought about everything and felt Deanna’s emotions wrap around him, a familiar blanket that was not, right now, comfortable. But they sat, together. 

An hour passed, maybe longer, and she turned her black eyes to him and yet again he was reminded how in love he would always be and if he could just convince her to come back to him, how complete they could be together. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I think it helped me, too.” 

Tears filled her eyes. “I also know you did that not just because you care, but because my commanding officer needed to check on me.” 

“Perks of the job is that I get to justify sitting here and having dinner.” 

She almost laughed. Her long fingers touched the top of his hand and he almost reached for her, but stopped. This wasn’t the holodeck and they were new enough to this crew that, despite his thoughts back in the corridor, it wasn’t the time or place to give in to even the most basic of touches. “Thank you,” she said again. “I’m going to bed.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Deanna.” 

It was hard, not reaching for her. Not following her. To watch her walk out of Ten Forward with only her grief around her shoulders. He’d lost a soldier, but she’d lost a friend, and right now, she needed to sit with those emotions. 

So, he stayed where he was, finishing the last of his drink, and watched the stars. Somewhere, long back where they’d left her, Tasha’s torpedo tube floated toward oblivion, and he and Deanna both had to learn to be okay with that.


End file.
